The Lady of Shalott
by julyza
Summary: While reading The Lady of Shalott by Lord Alfred Tennyson , I decided to write a one-shot in the SGE verse because the poem itself is Arthurian Legend and it involves Lancelot , so why not .i do not own any of those works. The poem is in its original 1832 form, just to let you guys know.


**This is inspired by Lord Alfred Tennyson's poem: _The Lady of Shalott_ and Soman Chainani' s SGE. I don't own any of those works , just my take on the poem and Lancelot ...plus the poem is public domain**

 _On either side the river lie  
Long fields of barley and of rye,  
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;  
And through the field the road runs by  
To many-towered Camelot; _

_And up and down the people go,  
Gazing where the lilies blow  
Round an island there below,  
The island of Shalott. _

She had been one of the loveliest girls in the School for Good , some say as beautiful as Queen Guinevere, but she scarcely spoke to others except to her roommate -the aforementioned Queen- , King Arthur and the Knight Lancelot. She often missed her home , the serene isle that sat on the road to the Greatest Ever Kingdom of all:Camelot, yet she secretly yearned to leave it . Her passion and Talent had earned her the Crown in the Circus of Talents .

 _Willows whiten, aspens quiver,_  
 _Little breezes dusk and shiver_  
 _Through the wave that runs for ever_  
 _By the island in the river_  
 _Flowing down to Camelot._  
 _Four grey walls, and four grey towers,_  
 _Overlook a space of flowers,_  
 _And the silent isle imbowers_  
 _The Lady of Shalott._

The small island had in turn become hers , after she had graduated the school and her friend had married the young King of Camelot. She enjoyed the solitude , it helped her mourn the death of her mother and father , the previous Lords' of the Castle. The picturesque island held dark secrets that had began to unearth with the departure of her parents . She sung in mourning while she wove their memories in tapestries so vibrant not even her Liege Lord owned.

 _By the margin, willow-veiled,  
Slide the heavy barges trailed  
By slow horses; and unhailed  
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed  
Skimming down to Camelot:  
But who hath seen her wave her hand?  
Or at the casement seen her stand?  
Or is she known in all the land,  
The Lady of Shalott? _

No one had seen the Lady of Shalott since she had returned from the School for Good and Evil, not even from the windows of the castle . There had been rumors that the castle of Shalott was cursed , that those who who resided in there died when they tried to leave it . The world had seemed to have forgotten about the Lady of Shalott or thought her dead , but in the School Master's tower her Story was being written . Yet , she was happy in her castle .

 _Only reapers, reaping early  
In among the bearded barley,  
Hear a song that echoes cheerly  
From the river winding clearly,  
Down to towered Camelot:  
And by the moon the reaper weary,  
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,  
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy  
Lady of Shalott." _

Despite her shy nature , the Lady of Shalott had a beautiful song that rivaled nightingales . In her captivity she sang while the common folk worked the bountiful fields around her . Some had believed her a fairy , for no mortal could have had such beautiful voice . Her Knight had called her his Nightingale

 _Part II_

 _There she weaves by night and day_  
 _A magic web with colours gay._  
 _She has heard a whisper say,_  
 _A curse is on her if she stay_  
 _To look down to Camelot._  
 _She knows not what the curse may be,_  
 _And so she weaveth steadily,_  
 _And little other care hath she,_  
 _The Lady of Shalott._

Her Talent had led darkness to befall on her . She could not even see the world from the window without It unleashing . No one knew what the curse was , but the Lady of Shalott had hope so she weaved to her heart's content , testing out magic tricks she had been taught , conversing with the birds and other animals , while she waits patiently.

 _She lives with littlle joy or fear.  
Over the water, running near,  
The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.  
Before her hangs a mirror clear,  
Reflecting tower'd Camelot.  
And as the mazy web she whirls,  
She sees the surly village churls,  
And the red cloaks of market girls  
Pass onward from Shalott._

She had not been a poor excuse of an Ever Princess, she was quite clever, so she hung up a magical mirror. Enchanted by The greatest Fairy Godmother, the Mirror allows her to see the world from her loom. The Mirror gives her hope that she could break It on her own or that she could still enjoy her Talent without thinking of the Curse.

 _Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,_  
 _An abbot on an ambling pad,_  
 _Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,_  
 _Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,_  
 _Goes by to tower'd Camelot:_  
 _And sometimes thro' the mirror blue_  
 _The knights come riding two and two:_  
 _She hath no loyal knight and true,_  
 _The Lady of Shalott._

She saw the world from the Mirror, even the most mundane things, she wove in her Loom. She had seen many knights, but none wished to save her. The Fairy had said many thought her dead, as no brave Prince or Knight had come for her. Her Knight, the one she dreamed of, would one day come, but when?

 _But in her web she still delights  
To weave the mirror's magic sights,  
For often thro' the silent nights  
A funeral, with plumes and lights  
And music, came from Camelot:  
Or when the moon was overhead  
Came two young lovers lately wed;  
'I am half sick of shadows,' said  
The Lady of Shalott._

She lived to weave, and she loved it even in her damnation. She sighed sadly at the sight of true love, for her hope began to falter. Where was Her Knight to release her from the Curse, to take her in his steed to Camelot, and out of that Haunted Island once and for all?

 _Part III  
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,  
He rode between the barley-sheaves,  
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,  
And flam'd upon the brazen greaves  
Of bold Sir Lancelot.  
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd  
To a lady in his shield,  
That sparkled on the yellow field,  
Beside remote Shalott._

Her heart fluttered as she saw Her Knight, hope filled her fragile heart once again. He had come, the One to break her Curse, to the Haunted Island. She began her Last Work in that accursed Loom.

 _The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,  
Like to some branch of stars we see  
Hung in the golden Galaxy.  
The bridle bells rang merrily  
As he rode down from Camelot:  
And from his blazon'd baldric slung  
A mighty silver bugle hung,  
And as he rode his armour rung,  
Beside remote Shalott._

Her Knight, Lancelot, had been very handsome even in their youth. She dreamed of him rescuing her and the Happy Ever After storybooks promised. Little did she know, the Queen, her only friend was His One True Love. The Mirror only offered what was present outside the Window, not the reality of life beyond it.

 _All in the blue unclouded weather  
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,  
The helmet and the helmet-feather  
Burn'd like one burning flame together,  
As he rode down from Camelot.  
As often thro' the purple night,  
Below the starry clusters bright,  
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,  
Moves over green Shalott._

He had been Her Prince at the Snow Ball, so she believed he would be the one to save her. The Storian , had never written a tale without a Happy Ending in almost two hundred years , could her story be any different?

 _His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;  
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;  
From underneath his helmet flow'd  
His coal-black curls as on he rode,  
As he rode down from Camelot.  
From the bank and from the river  
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,  
'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'  
Sang Sir Lancelot._

His Nightingale, he had called Her. She had sung for him many times, and here was Her Knight, moments from rescuing her. Her heart beat anxiously for her Savor.

 _She left the web, she left the loom  
She made three paces thro' the room  
She saw the water-flower bloom,  
She saw the helmet and the plume,  
She look'd down to Camelot.  
Out flew the web and floated wide;  
The mirror crack'd from side to side;  
'The curse is come upon me,' cried  
The Lady of Shalott_

She could no longer wait, perhaps the Curse had weakened. She had to see him in all his glory with Her own eyes. Three Paces, and one look out of the Window was enough… to bring the Curse upon her. She couldn't be saved now, nor could she return to the Magical Loom and see It through the Mirror for the Curse had strengthened. She was beyond saving; she could feel It taking course.

 _Part IV_

 _In the stormy east-wind straining,_

 _The pale yellow woods were waning,_

 _The broad stream in his banks complaining,_

 _Heavily the low sky raining_

 _Over tower'd Camelot;_

 _Outside the isle a shallow boat_

 _Beneath a willow lay afloat,_

 _Below the carven stern she wrote,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

She set her mind to defy the Rules of Good by leaving the island of Shalott, Her Knight had not even tried to save her, and so she would save herself. There had been a boat left ashore and it would take her into Camelot dead or alive, she would rather die free than a prisoner in her own castle.

 _A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,_

 _All raimented in snowy white_

 _That loosely flew (her zone in sight_

 _Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)_

 _Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,_

 _Though the squally east-wind keenly_

 _Blew, with folded arms serenely_

 _By the water stood the queenly_

 _Lady of Shalott._

She had always dressed in snowy white a crown of pearls, a bride waiting for a groom that never came. She had lost so much of her life inside her grey castle and now she would live, even for a few moments, free. Death was coming swiftly, but Hope kept her alive.

 _With a steady stony glance—_

 _Like some bold seer in a trance,_

 _Beholding all his own mischance,_

 _Mute, with a glassy countenance—_

 _She look'd down to Camelot._

 _It was the closing of the day:_

 _She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;_

 _The broad stream bore her far away,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

She felt herself dying the closer she got to Camelot, so she laid down in her boat, but she preserved. The animals went to find every magical being that could save her. She no longer feared dying, for death had released her of the shadows.

 _As when to sailors while they roam,_

 _By creeks and outfalls far from home,_

 _Rising and dropping with the foam,_

 _From dying swans wild warblings come,_

 _Blown shoreward; so to Camelot_

 _Still as the boathead wound along_

 _The willowy hills and fields among,_

 _They heard her chanting her deathsong,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

The Nightingale sang her death song, once again the common folk were the only listeners. At least they would miss the Fairy who soothed the pain of their hard work.

 _A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,_

 _She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,_

 _Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,_

 _And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,_

 _Turn'd to tower'd Camelot:_

 _For ere she reach'd upon the tide_

 _The first house by the water-side,_

 _Singing in her song she died,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

She sang despite of her slow painful death, it wouldn't be long now. The Nightingale sang Her Last lament as she left her mortal body. The Enchanted Pen drew the Serene Maiden as she drew her last breath, The Seer painted a new portrait in his Gallery, the First Fair Maiden to die since the Great War.

 _Under tower and balcony,_

 _By garden wall and gallery,_

 _A pale, pale corpse she floated by,_

 _Deadcold, between the houses high,_

 _Dead into tower'd Camelot._

 _Knight and burgher, lord and dame,_

 _To the planked wharfage came:_

 _Below the stern they read her name,_

 _The Lady of Shalott._

It wasn't long before Camelot itself became aware of her lifeless body, or for the people to see who this poor unfortunate Maiden is. The Lady of Shalott, The Weaver, had long been forgotten since she had retreated to her Island. No one could remember her given name, so she remained the Lady of Shalott.

 _They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest,_

 _Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest._

 _There lay a parchment on her breast,_

 _That puzzled more than all the rest,_

 _The wellfed wits at Camelot._

 _'The web was woven curiously,_

 _The charm is broken utterly,_

 _Draw near and fear not,—this is I,_

 _The Lady of Shalott.'_

What baffled the Kingdom more than not knowing her identity was the message she held. What Curse had been broken? Did the rich tapestry she was laid upon hold some sort of magic?

Her tale was proof that not all fair maidens got a Happily Ever After, but each School interpreted differently. Good used it as a tale of warning, Evil as proof that there was still balance in the Woods. Evelyn Sader used it to show how unreliable men were, while The School Master saw it as the Dawn of His Evil Reign.

Lancelot had more than once been blamed for her death, The King made sure of it after The Knight eloped with The Queen. Maybe he would've saved her had he not fallen in love with Guinevere.


End file.
